Of Falling and Sunsets
by rebeckon
Summary: When you spend your entire life feeling as if you can never live up to people's expectations, you tend to fall. Dean notices the scars on his lab partner's arm the fifth day of chemistry class together. He attempts to find his softer side to aid the kid with his troubles, despite their differences. Little do they know, the nickname Cas sticks, and he saved him from falling.


When you spend your entire life feeling as if you can never live up to people's expectations, you tend to fall. Dean observed a specimen of falling on his fifth day of chemistry class, when Castiel Novak began to roll up the sleeves of his trench coat to conduct their daily experiment. It was a faint pink scar, etched into the boy's skin, or so he thought. The sleeves were back down to his wrists before he could even comprehend what he had just seen. When it finally clicked, he had pressed his lips together in thought.

What would Sammy do? Of course in situations like this, he would resort to thinking like his little brother. He had always had better social understanding of people, anyway.

He sat up straight, his eyes wandering without a care of being caught, and he snatched the notebook in front of Castiel, not bothering to ask for permission.

"Hey!" The male fought weakly, reaching for his notebook with a disgruntled expression. "What are you doing?"

His blue eyes followed the pen's movements as they traced the lined paper with a practically indecipherable scrawl. "Hold on, Cas boy, I'm doing you a favor." Neither Castiel nor Dean knew that this nickname would eventually end up sticking.

When Dean passed back the notebook, his number and name were scribbled in dark ink, hardly matching up to the margins and lines in his lack of interest when it came to perfection. It was only a number after all.

His lab partner stared blankly at the letters with a perplexed look, before turning his bright gaze back to Dean. "What is this?"

"What does it look like?" He rolled his eyes, the bell signaling for next period. He coerced Castiel into returning the favor, having him write his own number on the inside of his arm. When he finished, Dean smiled down at him. "Meet me out front after school gets out. I better see you there."

"I have a meeting with-"

"Until when?"

"Five."

"Long meeting, isn't it?" Dean remarked. "But whatever, meet me outside the school. No excuses."

Prior to this day, Dean wasn't impressed with his assigned lab partner. Not only was the kid antisocial, he wore a freaking trench coat all year round. Or at least that's what everyone said, and well, he was quick to determine that Castiel was a grade A freak.

Their first encounter consisted of him attempting to make small talk and cracking jokes. Granted, most of this smirks and and words were directed towards blondes in the row in front o them, but hey, Castiel could have joined any time he wanted. And did he? Of course not. He kept his eyes averted the entirety of the class and only answered in one word answers, two if it was a good day.

The next couple of classes, there were no changes in the brunette's behavior. At this point, Dean had given up all hope of getting him to interact with him, and just allowed him to do the work and keep quiet. He would spend the remainder of the class flirting with the blondes. He didn't seem to notice that Castiel now seemed to notice him more often, his eyes shifting to steal a small glance of the Winchester. The system seemed to work to both of their advantages. Castiel wanted to be left alone and just get things done, and Dean just wanted to get laid.

But then their fourth class came around, and Castiel was nowhere to be found. Normally, Dean wouldn't bother to care, but he knew nothing about their experiment and even if did, wouldn't be able to properly meet its needs.

Thirty minutes into class, he showed up trench coat and all, looking as if he had just spent his entire morning crying or smoking a shit ton of weed. Dean decided it wasn't the latter.

"Thanks for finally showing up, Mr. Novak." The teacher's reaction hadn't been helpful to Castiel's condition, but that didn't seem to matter. He walked up to his seat and took it, choking back his emotions in an obvious manner. Dean looked around the room. No one seemed to be phased by the events that had just occurred. Did no one really care? This made Dean sick.

"Where were you, man?" He asked, wanting to rest his hand on Castiel's shoulder in a comforting way. No response, just a look of pity when their eyes met. "Seriously, are you okay?"

"I do not wish to talk about it." Dean nodded, never letting his sight leave the boy as he prepared their lab materials and pulled out their notes. This time, he was going to pay attention.

Back in the present, Castiel stood outside on the curb. His bag hung at his hip, his coat blowing in the wind with no control. The sun was on the brink of setting, the fall nights growing longer as days grew colder. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he

[Dean Winchester 5:13pm: Get into the Impala pulling up.]

[Dean Winchester 5:13pm: I know what you're thinking, she's a beaut.]

Castiel stared down at his phone, glancing up momentarily to spot the vehicle he mentioned. He wasn't great at identifying cars, but it had been the only one pulling up to the curb at the time being. And it was here to pick him up. Him of all people.

[Dean Winchester 5:14pm: Stop staring like you're a lost puppy and get your ass in this car.]

He shut his phone in embarrassment, slipping it into his bag before scrambling to get to Dean's car. He hesitated briefly before entering into the passenger seat beside him.

"Glad you could make it," he grinned, watching Castiel buckle up as he shifted the car back into drive.

"I didn't really have a choice, did I?" He asked the Winchester boy, licking his lip at the thought of their chemistry class earlier that day. It had been rather strange, not to mention forward.

"Don't act so excited there, Cas." He chuckled. "Oh, by the way. I'm going to call you Cas. It's just much easier. Hope you don't mind, cause it's going to happen otherwise."

"Oh," Castiel started, playing with the word on his tongue for a few moments before continuing. "I guess I don't mind. But may I ask where we're going? Or why I'm even here?"

Dean turned onto the main street from the school with lead foot, startling the passenger with the speed and sharpness. It wasn't expected. "That'd ruin the surprise! It's a short drive, don't worry."

However, he felt as though that was the least of his worries.

They pulled into a car lot of sorts, Castiel was unsure, and Dean merely laughed at his expression upon their arrival. "It's my Uncle Bobby's. Don't act so paranoid." He parked his car in the far back, attempting to hide his arrival from said Uncle Bobby for the time being at least.

Castiel exited the car, observing his surroundings with confusion. "Why are we here?" Dean mumbled something like 'you'll see' and pulled him through a maze of cars by his hand without warning.

The brunette huffed as they stopped in front of a high raised truck, and Dean stood proudly in front of him with the brightest smile Castiel had ever seen. He tilted his head, knitting his eyebrows together at the sight. "A truck? I don't understand..."

"Don't mind me, Cas," he said, taking him by the hips and raising him up and onto the bed of the truck before climbing in beside him. "Hope you don't mind. I noticed you're a little jumpy." Cas remained silent, eyes wide as he caught sight of the view up ahead. The sun had been setting into an array of colors, clouds still passing through the pinks and oranges of the sky as day bled into night.

"Great isn't it?" He nodded in agreement, unaware of Dean's hands resting on his shoulders in a ginger manner. "Mind if we use this as a pillow?" He was referring to his trench coat.

"No."

"Cas."

"I don't want to," Castiel whispered. "Don't make me, Dean." He sounded so pathetic, so weak and Dean bit his lip. Maybe this had been a bad idea. But he had to try.

"You don't have to hide them. I know they're there." He could see the look in his eyes, how the bright orbs of blue dimmed with the shame bubbling in forms of tears.

"I can't." Cas pulled his coat closer to him, trying to retreat into his shell. "I can't. Is this a prank, did someone put you up to this? Do you feel sorry for me? Is this why you're-"

Dean held up his hand to Castiel's mouth, shaking his head. "I brought you here because I want to be your friend. You look like you need a friend. A friend who will be there whether your body is marked with scars or not. Unfortunately, you'll have to settle for me but regardless, that's why we're here."

He didn't believe the words that left Dean's lips. No one had ever been remotely interested in becoming such a person to him. The closest person to him was Anna and she didn't count because she was family and this, this was Dean Winchester. And he, he was a freak.

The tears were rushing down his face now, and Dean pulled him into his chest. He wasn't sure if this was right, how you comforted someone. He had little experience with friendships, back when his dad was still around, they have travelled too much to have a consistent relationship with another person at his school. Sioux Falls was different. He always had Bobby, and that meant he could make a home here.

Dean could feel the sobbing and gasps for air against him, a wet spot forming where tears met his shirt. He patted the Novak boy's hair, something he had seen in a movie, and just tugged him closer.

"Cas," he murmured softly, loud enough for the teenager to hear him over his loud sobs, "did you know I look forward to seeing the sunrise and sunset every day and night?" Of course he didn't. Rhetorical question. "Well, I do. And damn, are both beautiful. You see, the sunrise, it means that you made it through the night. Whether you slept like shit or soundly, it all means the same. And the sunset, it means you made it through the day. It could be the best day of your life and it wouldn't matter as much, I suppose. But when you're struggling... when you feel like your world is crashing down before you. The sight of a setting sun and stars becomes everything to you."

Castiel pulled away slowly from Dean's chest, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his trench coat. He meekly apologize for the mess he made of the other boy's shirt, but was quickly told to shut up- in what Dean promised was a form of affection towards his friends. Not that he was an expert.

"Not everyone's sunrise and sunset are the same though. Some people, it might be their family. The smiles on their faces that get them through the day and that they look forward to when they wake. Or a girlfriend or a boyfriend, a pet, anything. It varies with people. Mine, it's this." Dean pointed up at the sky, all different hues and shades taking over the sky in a beautifully crafted masterpiece. He had never told a soul about this, not even Sammy.

"Maybe, until you find something of your own to keep you going, to remind you that you're still alive... we can share. Sound good?"

Castiel exhaled, taking in the what sat in front of him. Not the sunset. But Dean Winchester. A boy he could have sworn hated him like every other person in his life up until that very morning. The promise of friendship, the value of his life- Dean brought a smile to his face that couldn't explain the very depths of how he felt sitting there with him.

It was delayed, but he cautiously removed his trench coat, revealing the mass amount of scars and seemingly fresh cuts from the day before that took up the canvas of his arms. Dean ran his fingers over the bumps that where left over, a silent promise that he would not judge.

Dean did not ask why Castiel had resorted to cutting. He wouldn't push the fragile boundaries he already dared to challenge with all his antics up to this point. He would eventually find out that it all started with high expectations from his father and older siblings, and how he never seemed to meet them. That Castiel was led down a downward spiral when freshman year came along, and he was deemed school freak for his lack of social skills and how he dressed. Dean would one day learn how Anna's disappearance from the family picture when she sent off to boarding school left him in ruins, losing the only person he could confide in. And when Castiel told the story of the boy he fell for, only to be a prank in the end, destroyed any hope he had left.

But for tonight, these were kept to himself. Cas allowed Dean to take the coat from him and set up a place to rest their heads as they watched the sun dip into the flesh of the Earth. It was a reminder that they had made it through the day.

When he ran out of things to say about himself, the Winchester boy would spend the rest of the evening telling Cas insane stories from his childhood, fairytales about monsters and angels and those few humans who dared to fight in the wars between Heaven and Hell. The rise of Hell and the Fall of Heaven and how brave hunters sought to save the fallen angels and cast away demons forever.

"When you come to think of it," Dean paused his story, "you're kind of like a fallen angel in the story. There's a good ending, I swear. You'll get your wings back and fly again."

"How are you so sure?" Castiel asked him, shutting his eyes as the remainder of the sun disappeared, leaving them in the dark.

"'Cause I'm the hero who returns them back to you. That's a promise, Cas."

He only laughed in return, peeking at Dean with a genuine smile gracing his lips.

How their friendship started was odd, a mess of obstacles and misread signs. What seemed like a match made in Hell at first, ended up being what they both needed in the world. A friend. Someone to confide in.

Of all the things they gained that night, what they lost meant even more. Castiel lost his will to fall. Dean would never understand how well the title of "fallen angel" had suited him, and he would never know. Of all the things that Cas would eventually tell Dean, he would never speak of how if Dean had just turned one more page of his note book, he would have found his suicide letter. He would never know that he had planned on taking his life that night, how he planned to fall forever and never get the chance to repair his wings.

Castiel would never fully verbalize how much their experience had changed his life, or how it saved it. Mostly, because he would not know how to properly do so, and he wouldn't be able to scratch the surface of how much it meant.

"We should get you home, Cas." Neither Castiel nor Dean knew that this nickname would eventually end up sticking.

"Let's just look at the stars a bit longer?"

"Alright, sounds good to me." And neither Castiel nor Dean knew that one day, eventually, Dean would end up being Cas' sunrise and him, Dean's sunset.


End file.
